“Looking back now, there's something that bothers me abut the newspaper article about her death: it has Celine as Knockout, as Queen Bee, as Prom Superstar. The kid the newspaper grieved for wasn't Celine. She was none of those things. Their version of her was less distinctive than the real Celine was, less an individual, devoid of any real-life individual's quirks and smudges. The paper seemed to believe Celine's death could only be fully newsworthy, only fully sad, if she were outlandishly beautiful, outlandishly popular, outlandishly everything.”

“MR. KHARIS: 'Does Mr. Celine seriously suggest that the United States Government is in need of a guardian?'MR. CELINE: 'I am merely offering a way out for your client. Any private individual with a record of such incessant murder and robbery would be glad to cop an insanity plea. Do you insist that your client was in full possession of its reason at Wounded Knee? At Hiroshima? At Dresden?'JUSTICE IMMHOTEP: 'You become facetious, Mr. Celine.'MR. CELINE: 'I have never been more serious.”

“Yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't like fistfuls of blondeness with legs longer than a Celine Dion note, now, did it?”

“I know the secrets; I dig Joyce and Proust above Melville and Celine.”

“But however fast the world was spinning, time was standing still for Celine and Oliver, held in a magic moment they would never forget.”

“P.S. I'm going to throw an absolutely mind-blowing fact your way. I'm not kidding, either. The country of Uganda is obsessed with Celine Dion. They dedicate entire days to broadcasting her music. They love her that much. Five words. My. Heart. Will. Go. On. Yeah.”